Gravity
by Lady Flick
Summary: AU. In which the Blue Spirit encounters a woman from the mist who proves to help him in more ways than one. BluePainted/Zutara.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:**

Let me begin by stating that this is a Zuko-centric _Alternate Universe_. There will be significant differences from the series though the world itself is the same in terms of the Four Nations and the existence of bending. However, there _is_ no Avatar. Also, I'm warning you now that there won't be any rushed, immediate Zutara love! If you're looking for that, it won't be found here. Zuko will deal with his feelings with Mai at some point. Besides that, this has been rattling around in my brain for a few days and I'm slowly working on it, having plotted out the next three chapters. It's been over a year since I've written anything creative, so I hope this is both intriguing and enjoyable!

Also: all that usual disclaimer stuff, of course.

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**Gravity**

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__IT is with a heavy heart that I write this letter, but you must know the truth, my darling Zuko. I will be leaving tonight, and I'm afraid you will never see me again, but believe me, my son, that everything I have done has been done in order to protect you. My child, my love, the only one I trust.__

__You may think that you are inadequate, but Zuko, you have something both your father and your sister lack – heart. Compassion. It is that human instinct that will allow you to do things far greater than anything they could ever hope to achieve. You have the capacity to love, Zuko, and with that power you will be undefeatable.__

__I wish that I could watch you grow up. Oh, how I wish that I could watch you grow older, watch you mature and become stronger and excel in whatever you do. I wish I could watch you make your mistakes and learn from them.__

__I wish I could watch you get up, just one more time.__

__You are the only reason I am here, Zuko. You, only you.__

__And now you are why I must go. You are my love, my life, Zuko, and to protect you I must leave you. I hope you do not hate me for this, please don't assume that I've abandoned you here. I want you to grow up and become strong, become the man you were always meant to be – and not the man your father thinks you ought to become.__

__Not the man Azula taunts into becoming. But the man you see yourself as.__

__Never lose sight of your own morals. Never forget about love and compassion and understanding. Never give up, never succumb, and always, always fight.__

__That is what I love about you. You keep on fighting even when things are hard.__

__Keep going, Zuko, and most of all, never ever forget who you are.__

__Not Prince Zuko, Son of Ursa and Lord Ozai.__

__Not future Knight Zuko, squire to Sir Iroh.__

__Just Zuko…and I promise you, my love, that that's enough.__

__It will always be enough.__

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**chapter one**

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It had become a rare occurrence that he would dream of his mother's letter, but on evenings that the memory resurfaced, sleep was always a stubborn friend. That was one such night, and Zuko was tossing and turning in his cot, the ghost of the Fire Lady's voice echoing in the vestiges of his mind as if reaching for him. Tendrils of sound emerged from the dark crevices in his brain, holding peace hostage. If sleep refused to visit, he might as well make the most of the evening.

Which was why that very same prince found himself seated atop the roof of a shop, watching the home of a very wealthy elite. _Kozuki Li. _The nobleman stumbled down the paved road of the upper district and entered his dark shelter. Zuko lowered his mask over his face, shedding his identity. He dripped from the roof-top, a melting shadow, and breezed by the shutting door with a few light steps. The nobleman seemed not to notice, at least, until a flick of the interloper's wrist brought a single candle-wick aflame. The glow was weak, and cast ominous shadows against the walls: Imitations of the lives lost at the hands of the Blue Spirit's captive.

Kozuki barely had time to turn before the masked man held him in place by an extended dao sword.

"Please—why are you doing this!" The elderly man's voice cracked as his plea fell on deaf ears. Wide, brown eyes watched the single blade resting beneath his nostrils, breath steaming the metallic sheen. "If it's money you want—" The curved sword slid away, quickly replaced by a swift kick. The captive was sent sprawling and blood splattered the hardwood floor of his home. "Please! Please! I have a wife! I have a child!"

The Blue Spirit crouched before his victim, and placed the tip of his joined dao swords beneath the Fire Nation noble's chin, lifting his wrinkled, sun-spotted face. "You mean the wife and child you abandoned in the Earth Kingdom to join the ranks of the Fire Lord's court? Do you know how they are faring? Let me tell you: your _child_ was taken from its mother because she was killed during a Fire Nation raid. A raid _you_ allowed."

"Who...who are you?"

The masked visitor straightened up, the movement simple enough but swathed in a layer of merciless quiet. "A man who seeks to right the wrongs of his people."

As the wick of a nearby candle crumbled to ashes, the hooded man disappeared through a window and into the night, leaving behind the corpse of his fourth victim.

The weeks passed by in a similar manner and eventually rumors of the assassin began to circle amongst the Fire Nation. It was clear that the victims were within the same ring of people, and noble houses took up more security. Posters were made. Bounties declared. Anyone who caught the masked demon would be greatly rewarded.

Of course, that didn't deter the culprit.

It was on a beautiful night that he sought to silence a particularly affluent man who constantly dipped his chubby fingers into the lower district's funds. Stealing from the poor to give to himself. What scum. Zuko was already perched in a nearby redwood, ensconced in the cover of leaves and awaiting his prey. Lord Zhu frequented the brothels of the lower districts, partaking of the slums and dutifully rinsing his hands of it upon assuming his noble title. Zuko watched as the gluttonous man passed the arches marking the upper ring of the Fire Nation districts. Leaping down from the branches, the Blue Spirit stood before his next victim. "A nice evening for a visit to the brothel, isn't it, Lord Zhu?"

The rotund noble gasped, stumbling backwards at the surprise, but immediately regained his footing. "I had a feeling you would come for me sooner or later. What is it you want? What are you after? I'll pay you twice as much as your client!"

The masked stranger laughed and the sound was deep and unfeeling. "You people always think my mind can be changed by money." His statement was punctuated by the sound of metal sliding against its sheath.

"Every man has a price," Lord Zhu reasoned, much less inebriated than he appeared.

"I'm not a man," the predator answered as he skillfully separated his dao swords, "I'm a _demon_."

His lunge was halted by an onslaught of arrows.

Lord Zhu laughed. "You think anyone would go walking around alone after your crimes? Tell me, are you familiar with the Yuyan Archers? It is said they can pin a fly to a tree without killing it from one hundred yards. I wonder what they can manage of a man hiding behind a mask from ten yards?"

At once the barrage of arrows repeated and the Blue Spirit dodged as best as he could, blocking the projectiles with his dao swords – metal on metal on metal. The assault was much too fierce, and the masked marauder took off into the web of streets, knowing the best defense he had was cover. He hated that the entitled nobleman managed to make it home safe, but he had far more important matters to attend to. Avoid being captured for one.

His steps were quick and ready, but the archers hid in the shadows – who knew how far away they actually were? The Blue Spirit skidded along a turn and took cover beneath a bridge. By the frequency of the barrage, he estimated a minimum of three archers hunting him down. Their precision was legendary, and the prince knew there wasn't much he'd be able to do aside from escape. An arrow slit into the sleeve of his tunic and Zuko growled as it pinned him against a post. He twisted about the wooden pole, narrowly avoiding the following shots, tearing his sleeve in the process, and proceeded to sprint towards the other end of the tunnel.

A single perfectly-aimed shot hit him square on the forehead and the prince fell back at once, hitting the cold pavement. The world spun and a loud crack in the back of his head left him reeling. Approaching footsteps echoed along the tunnel beneath the bridge and the firebender did his best to pick himself up, everything tilted this way and that and the ringing in his ears faded in and out.

_Not like this. C'mon, Zuko. Get up. GET UP!_

His swords lay on either side of him, and both were kicked out of his reach.

_Damn._

And a _spirit_ came out of nowhere—when did the fog sneak in?—silent and precise and disarmingly agile. She wore a cloak and large straw hat; there was a mystery about her, the swirl of her attire betrayed where she previously stood. Nothing but a trail of silvery liquid marked her presence. At close combat, the archers were not as quick. Perhaps it was the sweeping vision the blow to his head did to his sight, but the strange woman seemed to have an ethereal glow about her. She looked down at him, calculating, sizing up his worth, and decided he was unimportant.

"Thank you," the firebender mouthed, though no sound came.

The spirit stared at his kneeling form, unmoving. It seemed as though she was going to say something, but decided against it. With a flourish, a mist emerged and swallowed her silhouette. Zuko was left alone, beneath the bridge, pondering the identity of his unknown savior before slipping into uneasy darkness.

He was unsure how much time passed before he regained his bearings and was able to stand; luckily, it was still night. Despite the unfortunate (and admittedly pride-bruising) turn the evening took, what the Blue Spirit saw when he rose was both amusing and disconcerting: The Yuyan archers were frozen to the walls of the tunnel.

Under the cover of the darkest part of night, the Blue Spirit fled the scene, dao swords safely strapped to his back. It was a miracle that no one happened by to notice the incapacitated group, but Zuko didn't dwell on his luck. His mind was preoccupied by the mysterious fighter who saved his life. Had she been real?

Daylight breached the horizon just as the young prince returned to his cot, at which point a familiar voice beckoned him to join in tea and morning meditation. But his uncle's voice was nothing more than a faint memory; sleep claimed Zuko's being and he drifted off, thoughts circling the woman in the mist.

__Keep going, Zuko, and most of all, never ever forget who you are.__

For the first time in many nights, his sleep was deep and free of nightmares.

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**Just an idea that's still fleshing itself out!  
****I hope you enjoyed c:**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:**

I immensely appreciate the feedback and support I've received for the first chapter! Thank you for taking the time to let me know what you think. This chapter is marginally longer than the last, and I believe all future chapters will be a similar length if not longer. I hope you enjoy; if you alert or follow, it'd be wonderful if you could also add a review : ) I'm still working on figuring out the feel for this story, so if things seem too short and under-developed, I'm sorry! I'm properly trying to find Zuko's "voice" and it's a process - but I hope it's an enjoyable journey so far!

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**Gravity**

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**chapter two**

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Zuko thought about that mysterious entity for days to come, but it would be weeks before he encountered her again. She looked alarmingly familiar – not her face, rather, the markings swirled on her cheeks, her arms. The very idea of a woman emerging from the fog...it screamed Fire Nation lore. Or some other culture's lore, in any case. Zuko tried not to think too much about the mysterious fighter, but found it increasingly difficult. Any slight movement in shadow or light caught his attention. She was driving him mad until finally he decided to consult a man who was well-versed in such worldly things.

"A mist-woman?" Iroh repeated, eyeing his nephew. "I can't say I've heard of any such spirit. Could you describe her to me again?"

"Yes," Zuko's patience wore thin and there was something unsettling in his uncle's cheshire smile, but the prince reiterated his tale for (what felt like) the thousandth time. "She came out of nowhere – it was foggy that night or something, I guess? – and she was wearing a straw hat and a cloak and spinning around a lot," he then poceeded to make wide gestures with his arms to punctuate the extravagant twirling, "and there was paint on her face and arms and—_stop laughing, Uncle!_"

The tea connossieur could barely constrain his amusement. "I'm sorry, nephew, but you look ridiculous!"

"Ugh, _nevermind_."

That was the end of that.

Days followed where Zuko decided it would be best to lay low until the threat of the Blue Spirit died down. At a local tea shop located in the outskirts of the outermost ring of the Fire Nation, gossip spread regarding Lord Zhu and his close encounter with the dreaded demon. Apparently the noble had scared the fiend away with his courage(!) It made the prince's blood boil knowing that hog-monkey was being admired for his "bravery." The Yuyan archers were mentioned, yes – but they had been afraid of the demon and ran away, only to be frozen in fear (apparently).

And the public _ate it up!_

"Did you hear about Lord Zhu? I didn't realize he was such a mighty warrior," a middle-aged woman swooned.

Zuko scowled, setting his cup of tea down with unnecessary force.

The act was not lost on Iroh who watched his nephew curiously. "Is something wrong with your tea?"

"No," the firebender replied. _Something is wrong with these people_, his mind finished. It had been eight days since the incident and _still_ it was the talk of the nation. Did these people not have other worries? More important matters? "I just...it went down the wrong pipe," and he feigned a cough that even a three year old wouldn't believe.

They exited the shop and walked down a dusty road. The outer circle consisted of narrow, unpaved streets. Shacks and unsavory business establishments comprised majority of the buildings in the district and though many characters were of the unsavory sort, there were plenty of down-and-out families and riches-to-rags citizens who blew their fortunes on liquor and pleasure.

A part of Zuko felt constantly on-guard for remaining in his homeland, but it seemed that very little news reached the lower district regarding the royal family. In fact, few people were even aware what the Fire Lord and his family looked like. Besides, he wouldn't be able to take out each noble and high-ranking official if he had left.

As the duo wound down the narrow path, they passed by a bustling market. Iroh meandered from stall to stall and Zuko trailed by, suppressing his irritation with mankind. Everywhere he turned, twittering voices cooing about Lord Zhu bombarded his ears. To say that it was grating on his last nerve would have been a severe understatement. Nevermind that the perverted lard was getting _honor—_it was the principle of the matter! The Blue Spirit was _not_ a terrified punk who bit off more than he could chew!

A poster mocking the demon said as much, and Zuko visibly steamed at the sight of it, resisting the urge to tear it down.

"What's gotten you so wound up?" The former general inquired.

Zuko turned to face his uncle and came face to face with the Blue Spirit instead. "Ah!" He couldn't contain his surprise and scowled as the face behind the mask chuckled. "Why are you wearing that thing! Where did you even get it?" The quality was shameful, nothing more than a novelty item.

The older man tilted his head in the direction of a booth selling such masks. "Over there. People are buying masks for the masquerade!"

"What...?"

"Surely you haven't forgotten your sister's birthday?" Iroh said discreetly, at which Zuko's scowl intensified.

The prince grabbed his uncle's sleeve and dragged him away from the crowded street. "_Quiet down!_" Once the two were out of earshot, Zuko let him go. "Now, what about Azula's birthday?"

"There will be a masquerade in honor of her 15th year," Iroh said simply.

"But Azula hates people. And parties. She hates everything."

The general shrugged. "I'd imagine it's to regain some of the people's trust. After years of war and poverty, the Fire Nation has lost much of its morale, and if they don't act soon, they may very well be overthrown."

Zuko couldn't imagine _anyone_ challenging Azula. Except him. And even he wasn't ready. "Isn't that the point?" He asked as they continued their walk deeper into the lower ring. "To overthrow father and Azula?" They arrived at a run-down shack that the pair called home and stepped in, safe from prying eyes and nosy neighbors. "That's why I left. That's why you came with me—to help. Right?"

"Zuko. You must be aware of the opportunity to strike. It is not now when we are so few, so weak, and the supporters are plenty."

"But his supporters have been dropping like flies," the prince reasoned, "soon no one will want to support father."

Iroh studied his nephew through guarded eyes, as if by staring, he was slowly fitting together pieces of an unseen puzzle. "Is there something you aren't telling me, Zuko?"

The young man, in true Zuko fashion, responded with a rather loud and highly suspicious _No!_ and proceeded to storm away, every bit the hormonal teenager Iroh often forgot he was.

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"You look wonderful, nephew," Iroh stated as the prince tugged at his attire. It was a rare event that the entire Fire Nation was invited to the palace – in fact, Zuko couldn't remember the last time his father opened the courtyard and ballroom to commoners – and so the districts were abuzz with excitement. Even Zuko had to admit his anticipation, though it was due to his plans rather than stepping foot in the Fire Nation court. It was the perfect moment to act against the Fire Lord. A busy event, everyone hidden. Why waste such an inimitable opportunity?

His tunic was finer than what the outer ring could typically get their hands on, but Iroh had kept some of Lu Ten's old clothes. Granted, it was a bit long for Zuko (Lu Ten was always taller), but the prince filled it out nicely. The typical red and gold embellishments always suited the firebender, but his mask was clearly bought last-minute – it was a silly, grotesque silver _thing_, an animal that not even his uncle could decipher. Nevertheless, it did its job of covering his face completely.

"You're sure you'd rather not wear your other mask?" Iroh hinted calmly, pouring himself a hot cup of tea.

Zuko hesitated, then turned to the former general. "How did you find out?"

Iroh took a satisfying sip of his tea and breathed out. "I ask you time and time again to put your own clothes away. When I end up doing it for you, I am bound to find certain things that are poorly hidden."

"You went through my stuff," the prince accused in a most childish manner.

The older man ignored it, however, and breached the topic at hand. "I had a feeling all along, nephew, you're not quite as sneaky as you believe. But I must plead with you: don't do what you're planning to do tonight. It is not wise to strike before you are ready."

Zuko's amber gaze hardened, "When is the best time to strike? We've been waiting far too long!"

"I've already told you, nephew. The White Lotus is handling the situation, we are preparing. And I know you are frustrated with waiting and want to know the details of our plans, but you are not part of the society yet. You are a liability with your temper and impatience. You don't know what you're meddling with. Why do you think my brother and Azula are throwing this event? Not simply to gain the support of the poor districts—they are trying to lure the Blue Spirit to make a move. They are trying to lure _you_. You will be waltzing right into their trap."

Rather than argue with his uncle, the prince sighed. "Alright, uncle. I won't do anything."

Whether or not Iroh believed him was another matter.

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They were late; being admitted through the large gates took much longer than either bender expected. When they finally entered the grand ballroom, Zuko was bewildered at how many people were in attendance. Masks of every shape, animal, color, and spirit lingered about. An orchestra was situated on a small stage and at the throne sat his father and sister, looking even more obnoxiously regal than usual. Even with her face hidden behind a golden mask, Zuko could tell Azula wore a disgusted, if not bored, expression.

Zuko felt himself tense at the sight of them sitting there, father and daughter, sitting ducks. A hand at his shoulder calmed him, and he turned to see his uncle's turtle-duck mask.

"I will be at the buffet table," the older man said, before scurrying off on surprisingly light feet into the crowd, leaving the prince standing quite alone in a sea of unfamiliar people.

He found it difficult to move three paces anywhere with the bodies packed together. The grand hall had always seemed so large when he was a child, but now it was suffocating. Zuko finally managed to escaped to a courtyard behind a gauze curtain. Pairs sat about, enjoying the starlight, and he excused himself rather awkwardly, searching for a secluded area to infiltrate the masked servants who were privy to royal access. Yes, his plan was still very much _on_ despite what he told his uncle.

The turtle-duck pond he frequented in his youth was not accessible to the public, but there was another little pond shrouded in trees where began to untie the ash securing his tunic.

"Don't you think it's a bit inappropriate to skinny dip here?" An amused voice beckoned from across the little pool. The prince tensed at the sound and glanced up where a shadow he previously thought was a boulder straightened up. What was clearly a woman's voice spoke again, "I mean, I know otter-penguins love water, but this is hardly the time or place to take a swim."

Otter-penguin?

"I didn't realize anyone was here," he retorted, face bright red beneath the mask as he tightened his belt. The mockery in her tone was infuriating. "And I wasn't planning to _skinny dip_. I was...adjusting my tunic."

"_Right_," the stranger drawled; the smile in her voice was evident. "Too stuffy in there for you?"

"Uh...yeah," Zuko answered crisply. "I'm sorry for interrupting your solitude, I should be going," he said as he excused himself with a polite and formal bow. As he left, he heard the young woman laugh.

"There's another pond on the east garden that's much more solitary!"

Zuko easily decided that the girl was annoying.

To her credit, the other pond _was_ empty of witnesses, and just as the prince plotted to assault the next servant to wander by, chaos emerged from the ballroom. He arrived just in time to hear the Fire Lord demand the _traitors_ be imprisoned. At the center of the hall, three guests were on their knees, masks abandoned. Two young men and a girl. He wondered if she was the same young woman he met at the pond - but as she slandered the Fire Lord's name, her voice betrayed her much younger age. The three were charged for treason and were to be hung at dawn. The masquerade promptly ended, and Azula, upon removing her mask and eyeing the captives, seemed largely disappointed. Her eyes lifted, briefly finding the banished prince's mask, but Zuko turned away at once, moving towards the exit with the masses.

Whoever those idiots were, they ruined his only chance of taking out his father.

If it wasn't for the banished prince destroying his own room, Iroh would have thought Zuko had a hand in what took place that evening. But the young man's obvious frustration was evidence enough that someone beat him to the attempt. Iroh decided it was best to leave his nephew alone. Tantrums were best dealt with by doing nothing. And so, as Zuko swept out of their home in the darkest part of night, Iroh let him, hoping he wouldn't go and do anything stupid.

Zuko wasn't actually going to _do_ anything, of course. He knew better than to risk acting out especially after what happened at the masquerade. That didn't stop the fact that he was too angry to lie in his cot and remain wide awake. He needed fresh air. He needed to _take someone down_. Perhaps Lord Zhu? Yet somehow Zuko found himself lingering on the outskirts of the royal gates, watching the guards diligently elude the temptation of slumber. Perhaps it was the cool night air that calmed him, but he relaxed on the ledge of a nearby tower, studying the patterns and shift-changes, committing to memory where the sentinels patrolled. Much had changed after his departure from the throne – it was clear his father and Azula took precautions to make it difficult for the runaway prince to penetrate their defenses.

And then a shadow darted below him, emerging from one alley and lithely ducking into another. Zuko leaned over the ledge to make certain he wasn't dreaming. The figure peered around the corner to get a better view of the guards changing shifts and the moonlight exposed the red markings on her shoulders:

The woman from the mist.

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**Yes, the woman is Katara.  
(gasp!)**


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